When in Rome
by hint-of-mayhem
Summary: Harry has done his duty. Voldemort is dead, the Wizarding World is safe. Duty over, Harry has had enough. He 'exiles' himself from all things magicrelated and starts muggle Uni until a trip abroad sends him hurtling back into the world he left behind.
1. Prologue

Author's Notes—Beta'd by Fictionalley user, Alexa Black.

As with my other novel length WIP, this fic won't be updated as regularly as I'd like due to a huge workload at the moment. I can, however, promise that it will not be abandoned!

I hope you enjoy it, please review!

_Prologue_

Harry had reached his saturation point. He had spent the first eleven years of his life — what he could remember of them — being neglected and abused; the following years of his life, he had been thrust into the limelight whilst he fought for his life. He finally learned how to love people, and what it feels like to be loved, only to lose people to a war he was supposed to be winning single-handedly. He blamed himself for every casualty; he grieved for everyone killed, all the time being heralded as 'the Boy Who Lived' and 'the Saviour of the Wizarding World'.

He had been just eighteen when he had committed mass-murder, killing not only Voldemort but also as many Death Eaters as he could track down. He had lived up to everybody's expectations, had saved their world, but that was the end for him. He didn't want to the recognition, to be looked on in awe and fear, or to be on the front page of international newspapers anymore. So Harry had chosen a self-imposed exile from the magical world.

Harry left everything he had grown to know and love behind. He left his friends and defended his decision to do so by reasoning that they would be better off without him, as the press dogged their every move when he was with them.

He spent a year as a recluse, moving from city to city without settling. He needed the time to come to terms with what had happened, to find himself again after learning to shut out everything. He had become so distant and unpredictable and he hated it. One minute he was crying, the next he felt like throwing things. He never laughed any more. A deep chasm of depression had claimed his soul, and it took him the best part of a year to reclaim enough of it so he could begin to live again.

He began in small stages; he decided to settle in Oxford and apply to the Muggle university there, majoring in Art and minoring in English. He found ways to express himself in these areas: got good grades, published his first novel, had several exhibitions of his artwork.

Successful in getting the academic side of his life together again, Harry began to try and socialise. He joined a small reading group; he tried out for — and got — a place on the university football team. He made friends.

Three years on from his 'exile', Harry was a different person. He missed Quidditch, his friends, Hogwarts; not a single day went by when he didn't think about the war but he squashed these thoughts down, locked them away and moved on. His nights were still plagued by nightmares of his past, but by day he was a well-loved, trusted and vibrant friend to many, enjoying each day to its fullest. He was never truly happy — he hoped this would come with time — but he at least began to live a normal life again, to some extent.

It was the summer between his second and third year at university and Harry had finally gained a group of friends he trusted enough to agree to join them on a holiday to Rome. Four of them would be going together: Harry, his closest friends Elise and Kai, along with Elise's current boyfriend Stephan, whom Harry had yet to meet. Kai was the academic type, strong and sensitive but sometimes unbearably intelligent. On the other hand, Elise was a spontaneous, life and soul of every party within a twelve mile radius kind of girl. The sharp contrasts in their personalities only brought out more and more sides to the still enigmatic Harry, helping him to heal without anyone even knowing it.

Harry was looking forwards to his fortnight away with them as he left his apartment, a small black suitcase and travel bag in tow, and set out to travel to the airport. Had he known the events that were to unfold, he may have thought differently.


	2. Chapter 1

Author's Notes- Beta'd by Fictionalley's Alexa Black and Livejournal user **fcmwtrdo**

Yes, this chapter is short! I know and I apologise! For some reason I have difficulty spinning off long chapters when I am writing post-Hogwarts. Call it setting the scene. The next updates should be longer!

Please review! All comments and criticisms welcome!

When in Rome—Chapter 1

He was running late. _Kai is going to kill me if I miss this flight!_ Harry worried as he frantically tried to find his way around the packed airport, searching desperately for his friends. Scanning the check-in queues, all he could see were over-excited school-aged kids being herded by weary teachers. They were obviously on some form of school trip abroad.

Stopping, Harry realised that they must be from a boarding school as they were apparently sorted into house groups. He sensed their group rivalry as they rushed over to the desk, fumbling for their passports, evidently wanting their house to be the first to check in. They seemed severely disappointed when a man with fairly long blond hair beat them to it.

The school children settled into what was supposed to resemble a line and bickered amongst themselves, waiting impatiently. Memories hurled themselves to the front of Harry's mind from the dark corners in which he had tried to contain them. Leaning on the handle of his suitcase for support, his eyes slipped out of focus.

"Hey, Matthews! Just 'cause your Daddy bought you a place on your house team doesn't mean you are so important that you can push past me!" a tall, auburn-haired girl yelled towards a smaller girl with dirty-blonde ringlets and a haughty expression.

The scene blurred. The girls contorted and morphed before Harry's eyes into boys; one becoming noticeably more ginger and freckled, the other a striking white-blond.

"Hey, Malfoy! Just 'cause your Daddy bought your way onto the Slytherin team, doesn't give you the right to take our practice slot!"

The real-world regained some clarity as a tall teacher leered over the two girls, silencing them with a death-glare that could have rivalled….

Severus Snape towered over Ron and Harry during one of their many falling-outs. He glared at each of them and, sneering vindictively, docked Gryffindor twenty house points each.

As this attack on his mind continued, all the images he had tried to put behind him returned with vengeance. Admittedly, he still had frequent nightmares and flashbacks of the more horrific events of his past, but now memories came to him unbidden of happy times, of everyday Hogwarts lifeEHe

. As he lost himself deeper and deeper inside his own mind, he lost control of his magic. The results were nothing like the disastrous displays of power from his youth, as he had long since learned to control the effects of his wild magic on his surroundings, even when his command of his magic slipped.

Instead the damage was more internal; pulses of invisible magic probed the surroundings. He could sense all magic within the confines of the airport, whether they be new or ancient. This information clouded his brain as he subconsciously scanned for any hint of danger. This skill, which he had struggled to master to aid his survival in the war, now came as a reflex to his momentary lapse of concentration. It wasn't until he felt a familiar sensation tingling around his aura that his thoughts returned and his magic was re-confined.

Swaying slightly, Harry racked his brain trying to place where he had felt that sensation before. It was the signature magic of someone fairly powerful, someone he had once met—even known! He just couldn't place it. All of his carefully sculpted pretence of ignoring the magical world was forgotten in that instant, until someone crept up behind him and covered his eyes with their hands.

Harry tensed, ducked to free himself from the grasp then pivoted round, defensively. Wandless charms and hexes swam around in his head as he did so—just in case. He was just about to shoot out an _Expelliarmus _when he recognised his 'attacker'. Dark brown hair, blue-grey eyes and a perfect smile—Elise.

"Woah! Jumpy much?" she said in her French-laced accent with a musical laugh. "Sorry, mon Coeur! You just looked so out of it, I couldn't resist."

She flicked her hair elegantly before standing on tiptoe and kissing Harry on both cheeks. It wasn't the first time she had reminded him of a certain golden-haired, part Veela despite their different, yet equally disarming, good looks. However, for a second Elise was gone and Fleur Delacour stood beaming up at him.

Harry shook his head to clear the hallucination. Years had passed without anything more significant than the daily, to-be-expected nightmares. And yet here Harry stood, practically a Muggle, being reminded of his magic left, right and centre, not to mention actually performing his first — albeit involuntary — magic since slaying Voldemort. Elise grasped his hand and led him, and his suitcase, away from the still checking in school kids. He only half-listened as Elise, oblivious to his disorientation, began to chat to him happily.

"The guys are already here. We were hoping you'd be on time for once…but why break a habit of a lifetime? What was it this time? Bus break down? Chased by a pack of ravenous wolves? Found a lost child and had to comfort it and find its mama? Met a cute guy? Oh! I bet that's it! Come on, 'fess up!"

Elise was renowned for babbling, and her mother tongue only gave her the ability to speak much quicker. Sometimes her rambling got a little annoying but right now, Harry was quite content to let her talk to herself while he mulled over the strange events of the day. By the time they had checked Harry in and caught up with Kai, Elise had pretty much conceived a whole make-believe elicit affair for Harry, which was obviously the cause for his tardiness. She seemed to find having a fairly low-key gay friend terribly romantic and, when Harry's lack of a love life failed to give her the juicy tales of star-crossed lovers in a homophobic society that she craved for, she regularly invented her own.

Kai sat lolled on a sofa in the departure lounge, checking that all the documentation for the trip was as it should be — with an air of concentration Hermione Granger would be proud of — or so Harry's current mind-state believed. However, when he lifted his head of sandy brown locks and greeted Harry with his friendly Irish lilt, all comparisons to Hermione were replaced.

"Hey, Sea-cough-Kai!" Harry stammered out. "Sorry I'm…"

"Late? Delayed?" he questioned playfully before hitting him with the paper work and adding, "A right royal pain in the arse? Not to mention predictable to boot!" He laughed at Harry's attempt at an indignant expression before continuing, "You remembered your passport, right?"

This time Harry managed a sincerely indignant expression due to the hint of concern that was evident in Kai's voice and expression.

The stage was set for one of their regular playful fights when Elise, running her fingers through her hair agitatedly, demanded that Kai 'quit playing with Harry' and told her where her precious boyfriend had gone. Kai's assurances that the elusive Stephan had only gone to get a drink seemed to calm her momentarily but then, without warning, she ran off squealing like a groupie and engulfed a tall man in a bone-crushing hug.

She led Stephan over without hurrying, giving Harry a chance to take in his appearance. He was tall, taller even than Harry who had _finally _reached a respectable 6'2". His build was rather stocky, apparently due to body building. His face was pretty unremarkable; his features weren't defined and his jaw looked weak. His eyes were a watery blue, his skin weathered, and his hair was mouse-brown with sun-kissed blond streaks in places. His expression seemed naturally hostile. Harry had become an excellent judge of character and reader of body language and, looking at Stephan, he noticed an air of self importance and an apparent need to search out power to compensate for his lack of it. His fairly muscular build was at complete odds with a face that would have better fit a weedy body — like some big bravado. Harry disliked him immediately.

"So you must be Harry. The resident artist _and_ novelist? You have quite the reputation! I must say I am quite impressed with some of your work, not bad at all," came a faux, upper-class accent with an unnaturally white smile.

Having finally learned to hide his feelings from his open-book of a face, Harry accepted Stephan's coolly extended hand with a smile of thanks. Elise had obviously decided that Harry had had Stephan's attention for far too long, as she tugged at Stephan's arm.

"So, honey, how come you were so long? I thought you were just getting a drink," she whined with a cute pout.

"Well you wouldn't believe the jerk in front of me in the queue! He was trying to pay in some weird foreign gold coins. I tell you, it's his sort that gives blondes their reputation! Plus, would you believe, he was completely up his own arse — like some bloody wannabe aristocrat," he guffawed. The irony of Stephan's comments teamed with his own pompous attitude wasn't lost on Kai and Harry, who shared incredulous looks and had to stifle their giggles.

As it happened, they needn't have bothered; their grins soon slid from their faces as Stephan continued to rant dryly. He was _almost _as talkative as Elise, just lacked her lovable nature which made her easily bearable, even at her worse. Harry sank into a stupor as Stephan began to talk about his favourite topic — himself. Despite the hustling and rushing around him, Harry found himself exiled once again in his own thoughts.

Various memories ebbed to and fro within his thoughts, no longer sparked off by what he was seeing but instead, by completely random influences. A moment of icy clarity hit him suddenly after what felt like hours. It was a feeling reminiscent of jumping into the lake during the Triwizard Tournament. Gasping for breath and shivering, Harry saw the world in perfect focus. Again he felt the same signature magic, only this time it was accompanied by a scent of peppermint, frosty winter mornings and expensive cologne. Placing the scent wasn't any easier than placing the magic, but something stirred in his memory that wasn't going to lay back down to rest.

Harry felt his arm being shaken. "Are you even listening to me?" Stephan's affronted tone had said before Kai swiftly cut across him.

"You okay, mate? God, you look like you've just seen a ghost!" A pale figure caught the corner of Harry's vision but when he turned to look, no one was there.

"A ghost…? I don't think so…human, I think…maybe…something I had forgotten," he mumbled nonsensically. As their flight number was called out Harry sluggishly followed the others to the plane. Before leaving the lounge, he cast a calculating look around him.

_Kai's right, _he decided._ It was a ghost. A ghost of my past._

Harry James Evans, muggle student, author and artist, had entered Heathrow Airport to fly to Rome. He never made it. Harry James Potter, most powerful wizard in existence, boarded the flight to Rome in his place, with the heavy burden of knowing that his muggle exile was coming to a rapid end.


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Notes- Firstly thanks to Potter's Wifey, Pika Rae-Rae, fudgebaby, new moongirl and iamnotafreakingGOTH for their reviews. I'm really sorry about the delay on this chapter but I've been having computer problems along with an extensive work load. Hopefully it won't be as long until the next update but, even if it is, just to remind you that this story won't be abandonned without warning.

Beta'd by Fiction Alley's Alexa Black.

My work can also be found at and at (or at least, it will be as soon as I can code this for skyehawke and the mods finish with it at fictionalley) The skyehawke will have the high rated nc-17 stuff and my pen name there is my real name, Jessica Cresswell. This account and fictionalley (the same name as this account) will contain toned down versions. That is, when I even get to the slashy parts.

I think that's everything I had to say. A happy belated Christmas/Yule to you all.

Jessica xXx

Chapter 2

Half an hour into the flight, Harry found himself glaring daggers at Kai, who was snoozing contentedly in the row in front of them. The seats were allocated in groups of three and Elise was adamant about sitting with Stephan. Either Harry or Kai had to sit in the row in front; Kai had been so _selfless _by quickly offering to take that seat and he had promptly fallen asleep, leaving Harry to put up with Stephan _and_ Elise on his own.

He had already suffered through a twenty-minute rant about why they should have gone first class rather than economy and now he was listening to Elise reminisce about how the two of them had met — with regular interruptions from Stephan about the audacity of the waitress at the restaurant they dined at on this date, or the quality of the food they had on that date.

Thirty-five minutes into the flight, Harry had lost the will to live. He had been to the toilet several times, tried to feign sleep and had even turned on his mp3 player. Nothing could blot out Stephan's guffaw of a laugh or Elise's high-pitched giggle.

To make matters worse, Harry could have sworn that the presence he had felt at the airport was still nearby. He had walked up and down the plane enough times to know that if the person was on the flight, they must be travelling first class. He didn't dare go and check. His mind had reeled off name after name of who the person could be and at least three-quarters of them were either Death Eaters or Slytherins. Of the remaining quarter, Harry couldn't bring himself to even consider the _thought_ of meeting them again. He had had such great friends and he had abandoned them — the survivors at least.

It hadn't been a hard decision to ignore the long-forgotten presence. There was no one in that part of the plane that he could possibly want to or, in the case of his friends, deserve to see again.

The awakening of his magic was more difficult to ignore. The grating of the mystery person's magical signature irritated him, stirring up more power than he had felt in years. Stephan began to gripe about religion — two nuns were on the flight, presumably travelling to see the Pope. Within minutes he had moved through all the major religions and was now avidly attacking Paganism. His ignorance on all subjects from Christianity to magic was driving Harry up the wall. The magic was swelling inside him and he was having enough trouble keeping it under control without having to put up with Stephan too. A sudden flash of anger was followed by silence; Stephan had stopped talking. He wordlessly opened and closed his mouth, growing more and more anxious at the loss of his voice.

Harry felt physically sick. The magic had escaped from him forcefully, following his slightest wish to have Stephan shut up. He had not cast so much as a simple charm since he had Apparated with a wallet full of Muggle currency from the exchange point at Gringotts. Violently trembling, he cast a quick _Finite Incantatum _at Stephan before he passed out.

Harry was dragged back into consciousness by a shaking sensation. Elise was leaning over to him, gently rousing him and laughing.

"I can't believe you slept through most of the flight, hun! That mystery boyfriend keep you up all night?"

Harry mumbled something about not having a boyfriend before taking a long swig of water and gathering his things. Kai was leaning on the back of his chair, chin buried in the head rest and his hazel eyes studying him seriously.

"If I didn't know you were such a deep sleeper, Harry, I'd have hazarded a guess that you were unconscious just then. You've been a ghastly pale since I met you at the airport."

Harry gave him a non-committal shrug before pinching the bridge of his nose with a look of determined concentration. Finally centered, he looked up again.

"I'm fine now, I promise. I just thought I…" _Thought I what? Felt the presence of someone?_ "I just thought I saw someone that I used to know. Bit of a shock, that's all." His voice wavered slightly as he spoke. Kai nodded, reassured. Harry's past was something that Kai and Elise had long since known to let be.

"You know I'm here if you're ever ready to talk." Harry gave him a genuine smile and ruffled his hair. The Irishman squawked indignantly before straightening up and in a perfect imitation of Stephan, retorted "I would mess you're hair in response, but there wouldn't be much point," he said haughtily, nose in the air.

He and Harry snickered but they began to laugh uncontrollably when Stephan said, "My, you sounded just like that blond prat that was in the queue in front of me at the airport." Elise and Stephan led the way down towards the door, Kai and Harry still trying to stop laughing.

"How could anyone be so dense?" Kai whispered between snorts of laughter.

Still unable to talk, Harry just shook his head in response. They caught up with Elise and Stephan as the four stepped off the plane and into glorious sunshine and humid air. They followed the crowd towards the baggage collection point.

Harry was feeling much more in control now. The magic was still there, still dangerously powerful but he was slowly remembering how to control it. It wasn't easy to admit after such a long time of forcing himself to forget, but Harry felt almost whole again. He had locked a part of his soul away for five years and now, to have it coursing through every fibre of his being was at once sobering and amazing.

He squinted slightly, adjusting his sight and gazed down at his hands, watching his aura pulsate brilliant emerald and gold around him. It had been a long time since he'd been able to see auras. Out of interest, he turned to Elise, who was standing hand-on-hip waiting impatiently for a glimpse of her suitcase. Her aura glowed pale lavender infused with a vivid pink. _Very appropriate for such a flirt,_ Harry thought, smiling to himself.

Next he turned to Kai who was surrounded in a haze of deep burgundy and, finally, to Stephan. For a moment, Harry couldn't see any aura surrounding the tall man, but slowly a dull grey filtered its way into Harry's vision. It was more of a fog than a haze and looked almost suffocating. As Stephan reached out to tap Elise to alert her to the arrival of her suitcase, Harry saw the grey fuse with Elise's lavender-pink aura around her shoulder. It entangled with a wisp of fuchsia pink and clogged it, turning it lavender.

Harry stood in shock. He had never seen anything like it. Sometimes when people, particularly lovers, touched, their auras would mingle slightly, but Stephan's was actually invading Elise's. Harry's original suspicions were confirmed. He _really _did not like that guy.

They had arrived in Rome just after midday and had decided to take the scenic route back from the airport to see a few sights. Driving through the city, Harry was in awe of its almost schizophrenic architecture. The city varied from wide, ornate squares with classy high street shops and pristine white-stone buildings to the ancient and historic parts of the city of baked stone and ruinous architecture. Both parts of the city had one thing in common — new or old, everywhere was beautiful.

Kai was sitting in the taxi opposite Harry, his eyes flickering from his guide books to the view out of the windows. Elise was curled up against Stephan, gushing about how the city was _so _romantic. Stephan wasn't really listening; he was 'preserving his voice' after his freak muteness on the plane. Harry chuckled inwardly at this perfect result but his contentment was going to be short-lived.

Stephan seemed to be struggling not to say something, whether to save his voice or because he was embarrassed that it wasn't clear. Eventually he gave up and 'whispered' to Elise, "Remember when we were on the plane, just about to leave? When you woke Harry up, you said something about his, uh, 'mystery boyfriend'?"

Kai groaned and pointedly glared at Stephan. "What would be the problem if she did?" he challenged. Stephan visibly deflated, looking warily at Kai before mumbling, "I just don't agree with it that's all."

"Well no one gives a damn what you think you jumped up little-"

"Kai! You might as well be whistling jigs to a milestone," Harry cut in firmly with an Irish saying he heard Seamus use many times when someone was attacking the Irishman's sexuality. Basically, it meant there was no point.

Kai stopped immediately and laughed loudly. "Well, who'd have thought it? You're full of surprises! Where did you learn that?"

"My old dorm mate was Irish," Harry answered quietly. He turned to the window and his friends knew him well enough to let him be. This was the first time he had ever so much as mentioned something about his past without needing to and both Kai and Elise felt its significance. Stephan however was oblivious and he continued, regardless of the obvious atmosphere in the taxi.

"So you aren't a fag, Harry?"

"No, I'm not a fag," Harry snapped. Stephan seemed to sigh in relieve before Harry added, "I'm gay."

"What's the difference?" he sneered.

"The difference," Harry said as he turned to look at the man, "is that one term is offensive."

Elise had been staring at Stephan in an annoyed manner — she hadn't seen this side of him before — but now everyone's attention was firmly fixed on Harry. He looked so different. His eyes were cold, penetrating orbs of jade — not their usual sparkling emerald. He looked dangerous. An invisible force seemed to flow from him, around him, within him.

He turned away sharply towards the window, shaking his head. He barely acknowledged Stephan's rushed apology or Kai and Elise's concerned questions. He had just had a blunt reminder of exactly how much magic he had been storing away — enough magic to kill, wandlessly and non-verbally. It was a scary reminder. Harry found himself imagining how Stephan would react if he knew that he was not only sharing a taxi with someone who was gay, but also someone who happened to be a mass-murderer. It was a sobering thought.

"Look, I'm sorry. It's just been one of those days, that's all. I know it's no excuse; I just hope you can understand." Harry looked almost close to tears.

Kai and Elise smiled warmly. This was the Harry that they were used to — moody and insecure but with such genuine goodness and love that it made all his shortcomings seem irrelevant. They didn't hesitate to tell him there was nothing wrong and that he had every right to be offended. Stephan was still looking wary but even he tried to explain.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I've never met someone who's openly gay and so my prejudices are probably unfounded. I guess this holiday is going to be a learning curve for us all, right? I get to spend time with a gay man without the fear of getting hit on and you guys get to see how the better half lives. I say it's a jolly good deal all ways round!"

The tension was instantly diffused as Elise took on the expression of the ever-proud girlfriend again and Kai and Harry returned to their barely contained laughter at Stephan.

_I wonder how much Stephan would have sucked up to me when we met if he knew that I am the resident artist, novelist_ and _millionaire? _Harry thought dryly to himself. He was always careful to keep his bank statements out of sight of his friends. When he emptied his Gringotts accounts — he didn't close them, they had been his parents' after all — the Muggle bank clerk had been in quite a state when he realised just how much Harry had to deposit.

Harry was pulled from his musings yet again. He made a mental note to himself to stop daydreaming and then tuned in to the real world once more. He noticed a thin pathway, Stephan had pointed it out, saying it was 'dingy and a let down to the area' but it didn't look so dingy to Harry. He saw a narrow pathway true enough, but he could also see that it opened up into a wider street of mismatched shops — Harry could have sworn that the forecourt of the nearest shop was stacked with cauldrons. _Diagon Alley,_ he thought, _or the Italian version at least_.

He wondered whether he could look around there without being mobbed. He did look different and he could always try a simple glamour charm. Weighing the pros and cons, he decided then and there to come back as soon as he could get time alone. It would be worth it even if it was just to find a text on auras to research what he had seen Stephan do earlier.

The taxi seemed to be heading towards the outskirts of the city. This area seemed more residential and was scattered with young Italian men and women on mopeds, as well as older families. Posters littered the walls here, but still there was no graffiti or rubbish to be seen.

The taxi came to a stop just outside their hotel. The front was white stone and the façade had the typical pillars and flying flags. It was several floors high and there appeared to be a path down the side of the hotel leading to some football pitches. They walked inside and were greeted by a large marble staircase leading to the rooms, a small reception, a lounge and bar and, across the wide hall, a dining room.

"So what do you guys fancy doing first?" Elise was getting more hyper by the second. Other than France and England, she hadn't visited a foreign country before.

"How about we check in first, honey," Kai smiled. Elise blushed slightly and mumbled 'I knew that' under her breath. Stephan was hanging around Harry, trying to work out how _he _had managed to afford the fare for the taxi by himself.

All in all, Harry was desperate to escape to his room and have some piece and quiet. He had the niggling feeling that the person he had sensed earlier was somewhere in the hotel. The chances of that were slim and so he put it down to tiredness — after all, it had only been a few short hours since his magic had returned to him; he was bound to be rusty, right?

Twenty minutes and two four-way arguments about how to get the luggage upstairs and which room was whose later, Harry finally collapsed onto his bed. The room, he reflected, wasn't bad at all. He had his own en-suite bathroom and television — even the air conditioning was working. In fact, the only thing he could criticise was the fact that the walls were covered in _pink,_ fabric wallpaper. He shut his eyes and focused on locating magic to see if he could do consciously what had triggered everything off at the airport.

Colours swirled around him, faint sounds could be heard and the air smelled like acrid electricity. He plunged deeper until he could actually feel magic. He felt someone unpacking their things magically in a room not far away from his own. It _was _the same signature and this time it was more familiar than ever. Harry blinked a few times in rapid succession as though coming out of a trance. For a split second he realised who it was but the day had finally caught up and sleep claimed him.

Light was beaming through the curtains and the air was warm and dry. Harry was aware of a fuzzy shape leaning over him. Groggily, he sat himself up, banging heads with the shape.

"Ouch! Sorry honey, it's just you look so cute when you're asleep! Are you going to get your lazy arse out of bed? You do realise that you slept through, don't you? We had to have dinner without you last night. It was so awkward…Kai must have felt like a gooseberry or something."

"Morning, Elise," Harry yawned as he stretched. She carried on chatting animatedly as Harry grabbed some clothes from his suitcase and his shower things before making his way into the bathroom. Elise waited for him to get in the shower and pull the curtain before she entered, perched on the toilet seat and continued gossiping.

He finally managed to usher her out of the room so that he could dress in peace. He threw on a pair of thin, faded jeans and a white t-shirt. He stood at the mirror drying his hair, absent-mindedly thinking about how his appearance had changed so drastically. Every time he looked at his reflection, Harry half-expected to see a short, scrawny bespectacled boy staring back at him. When he had left the Wizarding world, the young man he had seen in place of the boy had been an obscure nobody, emaciated, grief-stricken and plain.

But, after the events of yesterday, there was magic in his eyes once more. That shimmering intensity had been sorely missed and Harry wasn't sorry to see it again. Today, he looked in the mirror and saw the boy he was, only older with an angled jaw and sharp features, piercing eyes and a lithe physique. Hesitating slightly, Harry brushed back his hair and re-did his usual side part that hid his scar.

Normally it would take time and effort to get his hair to stay put to cover it, but today he didn't see the point. He tried a quick wandless drying spell instead and let his hair do as it pleased, just like it used to. It worked well — it now looked just as wild as before, only now well past shoulder length. A simple hairstyle change may not seem significant to anyone else, but to Harry, it was symbolic of being Harry Potter again.

He stepped out of his room only to find himself instantly mauled by Elise.

"Mon dieu! Harry, c'est fantastique! I like it so much better when you leave your hair all natural like this and you can see that sexy scar of yours! I've only ever seen that once or twice!"

"Okay, honey! We're keeping you well away from the sugar today, you hyper little hair-stylist. Give the guy some room!" Harry flashed Kai a grateful look at the intervention.

Stephan arrived from his room, looking disgruntled at being woken up. Still in a dressing-gown, he told them sleepily that he didn't want breakfast and to call on him at a more humane time before shutting the door crisply behind him.

"You should have seen him when I first woke him up!" laughed Elise. "If looks could kill…"

The three made their way down to breakfast in high spirits. Both Kai and Harry were obviously more relaxed without Stephan around and Elise seemed to act differently too. Harry had begun to wonder if Stephan was having a negative effect on his friend, but he decided not to dwell on that now.

As the three of them jumped down the last three steps, hand-in-hand and laughing, they were hit with the smell of pastries and coffee. When they got to the dining room, Kai and Elise made a beeline for the breakfast bar. Harry, however, stopped frozen to the spot.

A man was sitting in the room at a corner table, idly turning the pages of a newspaper. He was wearing an ornate silver-grey top that would have looked oriental in style to someone unfamiliar with the Wizarding World. It had a high fastening with a fabric tie and was long sleeved. Harry had always marvelled at Wizarding clothes and the way how they were deceptively cool despite looking so warm.

Looking closer, Harry noted that the man emanated elfin beauty — no other words could describe him better. He was tall and slight of build with refined features and flowing blond hair that hung in gently waves across his face as he read. For that split-second in time, the man looked like a piece of art.

Then frosted eyes met Harry's own — all the shades from storm-grey to pale stone in a steely stare. The eyes widened in shock upon meeting Harry's gaze. Recognition hit Harry at the same moment he pinpointed the source of the magical signature. A slight gasp escaped his lips and then nothing as he hurtled down into the deep oblivion of unconsciousness for the second time in two days. A name danced around in his mind before he completely fainted. The name of an enemy, of one he'd never understood — Draco Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 3

Authors Notes: Sorry for the _long_ delay! I'm sure you've heard it all before so I'm not even going to go into it. Let's just say RL is a bitch sometimes! I'll be back with more updates as soon as I can. Remember unless I say otherwise, both this fic and any other WIPs by me, will be continued even if I don't update in ages.

If you want me to add you to my mailing list so that you can be kept up to date with my stories, please send an email request to jessica(dot)cresswellgooglemail(dot)com

Thanks again for reading and please review!

For a few moments after Harry collapsed, Draco's world seemed to move in slow motion. The torrent of emotions welling within him made him feel sick to his stomach. He was awed for the warrior Harry became; angry for the betrayal to the Wizarding World that Harry's leaving had signified; struck by a sinking epiphany of how much had changed; superior because Harry now knew very little compared to him; concerned. Concerned about the fact that Harry didn't seem to be breathing.

Although Draco had seen the scene unfold before him with such clarity that it seemed to last minutes not seconds, in reality pandemonium had broken lose. Elise emitted high pitched squeal after squeal and had dropped her glass all over the floor. Kai hushed her in an irritated tone as he tried to run towards Harry but tripped over a chair in his haste. In the time it took for him to pick himself up again, and for Elise to find her feet to join him, Draco had made a snap decision.

He could have pretended he had never met Harry before ≈ no one could prove that it had been him that caused Harry to collapse. He could have muttered a simple _Enervate_, as his healing skills helped him sense that Harry was still alive. This may not help the man at all, but Draco's conscious could be semi-clear. Then he could have left, packed his things and Apparated the hell away from the resident Boy-Who-Lived-To-Become-The-Man-Who-Slayed-Voldemort or whatever such rubbish he had been dubbed by the tabloids at the time.

But something stopped him. Instinct? Draco doubted it. His gut feeling was to run whilst he still could ≈ he had never lost that Slytherin sense of self-preservation and if ever there was a personification of danger, it was Harry. But then there was his curiosity. So many questions flooded through him, and the need to _know_ rather than speculate hit the blonde so hard that it practically burned inside him. Ironic, Draco considered, as he had spent the only time he had been around Harry James Potter speculating and presuming rather than getting to know him.

In one fluid motion, the man stood up. His clothes didn't so much as crease; his chair made no sound as he moved it from under himself, and he walked as though gliding toward Harry. Elise had reached Harry by this point and was crying as she tried to rouse him. Kai was fending off the small crowd of people who were trying to get a better look.

Draco knelt gracefully beside him, placing a hand on each of Harry's shoulders. He was accurate in his assessment of Harry's ailment. Anyone who had left the magical world for so long either went mad, lost their powers or, in the case of a powerful witch or wizard, locked their powers away where they lay dormant ≈ intensifying in strength ≈ until the person could shield them no more. Draco presumed the latter was Harry's problem because any such jolt of remembrance back into the magical world would cause a similar break down. Harry, of all people, had both the power and the past. What shocked Draco, however, was just how strong Harry's magic was.

Normally when grounding someone's magical energy, Draco noticed a slight tingling sensation ---a kind of magical charge. From the moment he centred himself and lowered his hands to Harry's shoulders, the sensation was phenomenal. The acrid scent of electricity and singeing hair, flooded Draco's nose and clung to the back of his throat as though he were breathing a dense and noxious fume. The pleasant heat of the Roman morning was spirited away and replaced by an unnatural chill. It was as though Harry was absorbing all of the heat energy around him in an attempt to rebuild the walls that had locked in his magic. It took all of Draco's considerable strength to will Harry's defence mechanism to reverse.

It was like verbal persuasion. It took a lot of it to bring forth results but when it succeeded, Draco could feel the compromises and eventual give of Harry's shields. Years of restraint had caused his powers to limit themselves exclusively to his magical core. The build-up had caused his magic to try and escape but it had forgotten how. Harry's magic was still shielded within himself and, for a wizard of his power, this was not healthy.

Draco concentrated harder. He traced his hands lightly up from Harry's shoulders towards his neck, lightly brushing his jawline with his fingertips before pausing gently on Harry's brow. He found the last bit of restricted magic, and the source of Harry's unconsciousness, clogging his crown chakra. A final mental push and that diffused, leaving all of Harry's chakras in perfect alignment

The chill faded and the magical system was finally returning to normal. Instead of flowing inside Harry, it now coursed through him, around him, within him ≈ still stemming from his magical core but now flowing up from chakra to chakra before leaving Harry's physical body in a parasol of energy from his crown chakra. From here, the magic weaved around Harry's aura before some returned back to his core whilst the rest dispersed into the atmosphere. Muggles would call it completing the circuit, but Wizards knew it was more than that. It was part of a balance, a harmony which nature strives to protect with every budding shoot and every living breath. Harry's supply of magic would never run dry because his core was constantly fed by the very nature of magic itself ≈ the free-flowing force that surrounded everything, but could only be unlocked by a few.

Harry stirred. He felt an almost overwhelming sense of clarity and well-being. It was one of those experiences when one never truly understands how ill they were before until after they regained full health. For a moment he rested, arching marginally towards the cool touch at his brow, feeling more than a touch ≈ a connection between two people like he hadn't felt in years. It wasn't an emotional nor physical connection; it was a connection of magic.

Eyes snapping open, Harry tensed and his heart rate accelerated as he remembered his last conscious thoughts: _Draco Malfoy_. And sure enough, there the man was, kneeling aside him with his hands resting calmly on Harry's forehead. The man looked deep in meditation and Harry felt a slight adjustment being made to something deep within him as Draco checked that Harry was properly grounded and centred.

Then, simultaneously, Draco's eyes fluttered open and his hands slipped to a more restful position against the rapid rise and fall of Harry's chest. His eyes were stormed over with strain and his breathing was laboured. Regaining composure, he struggled to his feet before dusting down his immaculate clothing and turning away from Harry ≈ and the crowd of baffled onlookers. He started to walk away and, as he did so, spoke for the first time that morning in drawl that hit Harry with a wave of nostalgia.

⌠You should rest Mr. Potter, or Mr. Evans rather. As I recall, that is the name you've taken as your penname, correct? No matter, I'll be staying here for a while. You know how to find me when you're ready. We need to talk.■

⌠What exactly would you, of all people, have to say to me, Malfoy?■

Harry's response was instinctual and not well thought out ≈ nothing Malfoy could possibly want to say to him was something he wished to share in front of his Muggle friends. Plus, if Malfoy did still intend him harm even after healing him ≈ Harry wouldn't put it past the git to heal him, question him and then kill him ≈ provoking him was not a good idea.

The blonde turned around briefly and saw the regret etched onto Harry's face. _Emotive as ever_, he considered. His eyebrow arched and his face lifted into a pleasant smirk.

⌠Scared, Potter?■ he quipped as he walked back over and offered his hand to the man still sitting on the floor.

The significance of this was not lost on the raven-haired man. He distinctly remembered their first year ruckus upon entering the castle, when Harry had rejected the Malfoy heir's hand of friendship to defend his first true friend, Ron Weasley. A grin spread across Harry's face ≈ the likes of which neither Kai nor Elise had ever witnessed before.

⌠You wish, Malfoy,■ Harry retorted smoothly before accepting the hand.

After he was helped to his feet, he completed the handshake properly. Both men gazed at each other analytically; it was unclear to the onlookers whether they were sizing up the opposition or noting the changes time had graced upon an old acquaintance. But it was an indisputable gaze of intensity, of a troubled past and a questionable future. The blonde's smirk increased as he nodded to Harry coolly and swept from the room.

Harry's stare had followed the tall, angelic man out of the room. When he turned around, he noticed that the crowd had realized he was okay and had dispersed. Everyone was, however, chatting hurriedly to each other about the peculiarity of the situation whilst eyeing Harry interestedly. Elise and Kai made as if they wanted to hug Harry, but froze mid-motion with shocked gazes.

The man they saw before them was not the Harry they knew. His change of hairstyle that they had both noticed that morning had a whole new significance now. This was who Harry had been hiding under a faГade of novels and artwork. It was an instant feeling of certainty that struck both Kai and Elise ≈ every side of Harry's enigmatic persona that they knew and loved was now enhanced to some greater magnitude and infused with something reminiscent of pure power.

He offered them a sheepish smile, as though he knew what they were thinking, and took them both by the hand and led them towards the lift. A clumsy, multi-lingual out-of-order sign was printed on the door and so he pulled them towards the stairs and bounded up them three at a time.

Harry stopped outside his room and was fumbling around his pockets for his key when Kai and Elise caught up with him.

⌠Harry, I think we really need to talk. I have a million questions to ask you ≈ about today and about your past. I don't want to hurt you and I understand if you can't answer some of them. It's just┘■

Kai seemed to be struggling to maintain his usual, diplomatic self-control. Harry gave a sad smile, more to himself than to his friends, before shrugging and saying, ⌠...time to tell you what I can?■

He disappeared into his room.

Harry lolled onto his bed whilst his friends nestled into the chairs next to his small table. It was a set-up that reminded Harry of his old therapy sessions, for what little they had helped. It had been a long time since Harry had noticed that he had a gift for self-therapy and for analysing his own actions. Yes, it was unnerving at times and other times sparked bouts of denial that could last months. But in the end, Harry had always been able to sort himself out to the extent that he could live an almost normal life.

It was this self-preservation streak, or his Slytherin nature as others had dubbed it in the past, that went hand-in-hand with his gut feelings: he had to tell Kai and Elise what he could now, to prevent them from leaving him all together. They had stuck with him through a time of healing and mood swings, and he owed them what little he could give them.

He waited for an onslaught of questions, but none came. He took this as his cue to start explaining.

⌠Okay guys, I know I owe you an explanation of some sorts. It will be patchy, and some areas will sound damn right fantastical, but you have to believe it's the truth ≈ what little I can explain to you, that is. I'll probably leave you with more questions than you started with but that's the risk you'll being taking.■

Kai and Elise seemed lost for words. What Harry was saying had an odd sense of gravity about it, a weight that made it all the more serious. They wanted to reassure him ≈ to say that whatever little he could comfortably part with would be more than enough for them ≈ but the words seemed to be stuck in their mouths.

Strangely enough, Harry seemed to understand their intentions and smiled at them warmly and knowingly. Too knowingly. His eyes carried such a depth of experience and knowledge that they were almost penetrating their minds.

⌠I'll start at the beginning ≈ like all good stories do ≈ because that's what my past was to so many people: a story. The story of the one-year-old boy born to loving and gifted parents in a time of┘.umm┘..hidden political turmoil, shall we say? Lily Evans and James Potter, my parents, met at school. This school was where I was to go when I turned eleven, where I met the man you saw downstairs in the breakfast room, and was where the man who murdered my parents developed his thirst for power.■

Elise's eyes, so blue in some light and dusty grey in others, now shone clear with open shock and hurt for her friend. She had always suspected that Harry's past must have been bad, and a painful topic to broach but, at the same time, her method of dealing with problems was to always look on the bright side of things ≈ to distract herself and her friends with fun antics.

The hollowness of Harry's voice reverberated around the still room like a deep pit of sadness so embedded within Harry that it couldn't be relieved; it had become a part of him and there could be no Harry as he lay before her now without it.

⌠This school isn't the start of the full story, but it's the start of my story. Without it, so many events that have shaped my life would not have come to pass. It is a select school, private and enterable by invitation only. To go to this school, you don't have to be particularly strong academically, or of rich birth, but you do have to possess a certain gift.■

⌠A gift? What d'you mean by 'gift'? I know of an old school back in Ireland that only admits amazing athletes and┘■

Kai's voice faltered at the look of dry satire in Harry's face. Something about his friend was far more expressive than usual. He had thrown away his masks, lowered his guard and opened his true self. It was evident from his expression that Harry almost wished his school-life had been so simple.

⌠No. Not all of the students are athletic. This gift incorporates a large range of skills that different students excel in to different levels. The entire curriculum is different and it is the fundamental details of this gift and curriculum that I can't divulge to you. The gift is largely genetic and vast bloodlines of ancestors have possessed it. However, the gift is becoming increasingly common in people who have no genetic disposition for it.

⌠These children ≈ my mother herself was one of them ≈ receive a letter around the time of their eleventh birthday explaining to them the details of this school and their heritage. Most embrace these people as equal to those who can trace this gift through many generations ≈ inaccurately named purebloods. Some, however, do not embrace them and that was where the problems started.

⌠Now, people who are born like me don't only appear in Britain; there are schools such as this one worldwide. But the school I attended is undoubtedly the most world-renowned and, arguably, the best of them all. About sixty years ago, a student ≈ an orphan like myself ≈ was accepted into this school. He had no knowledge of his background, but extensive research on his part led him to discover that he was the direct descendant of one of the schools four founders.

⌠This particular founder was famous for his dark practices using our skills and for his bigoted views against non-purebloods, or Mudbloods, as they became insultingly known as. This young boy became steeped in evil and began recruiting followers from his own school house. People willingly followed him. He had such immense power and control over our skills. He was indirectly responsible for the murder of a non-pureblood girl at the school, but he framed someone else.■

⌠Murder?! Mon dieu, Harry! What kind of school did you go to?!■ Elise's eyes were practically twice their normal size such was her excitement. Forget scandalous affairs, this was far more interesting!

⌠One of a kind, my love. One of a kind.■ Harry's voice was pensive as he spoke. For a moment or two he became lost in a swell of memories. Absent mindedly, he shook his head before continuing.

⌠Anyway, this man┘.after leaving the school, he gained more power and more followers. He wanted some kind of ethnical cleansing I guess, to rid our kind of all non-purebloods. It was ludicrous, particularly considering his father never even had the gift like my mother did and was completely normal like the both of you.

⌠A war began, hidden from people like you by our government. We made it sound like freak accidents. In reality, there were soldiers on both sides and many lives were lost. My parents had thrice defied this evil man and so, when I was just one year old, he tracked them down, murdered them and destroyed our house.■

Harry seemed to take on the tone of the prophecy subconsciously. Both friends picked up on his odd phrasing but, of course, neither knew why. It only added to their confusion and to the strength of Harry's words

⌠He was, however, almost fatally wounded in the process. He went into hiding; I survived ≈ how is irrelevant ≈ and I was raised by my mother's sister's family, people like yourselves.

⌠When I was eleven, I started at the school. This was where I met the man you saw earlier. He and I were schoolyard rivals. We were from rival houses, played the same position on rival sports teams. I was infamous because of who I was and who my parents had been; he was extortionately rich because of his parents and their involvement with my parents' murderer.

⌠When I was in fourth year, this man returned. The second war started, only now it was the war of my generation. School-aged children were fighting alongside adults and against an opposition of twice their ability. I played an active part in this war and, once we had won, I turned my back on that world and joined yours as Harry Evans, not Harry Potter. A part of me died; I locked away my abilities for good, or so I thought.

⌠Then, over a period of a day or so, the glances of Malfoy at the airport, the sensing of knowing someone from my past was around, awakened me to what I was. I have seen things you couldn't even imagine, things I couldn't even begin to explain. But the long and short of it is that you have only ever known a fraction of me. Unfortunately, that is all I will ever be able to share with you.■

Silence greeted the end of Harry's speech. He exhaled slowly, as though releasing tension and preparing himself for the fallout of his words. He studied his friends carefully. Elise seemed on the brink of falling of her chair with excitement; her face still showed traces of concern, but it was plain to see that she was in her element. Government cover-ups, a hidden war, a poor, orphaned Harry thrown into the middle of it with a dishy schoolyard rival to boot ≈ it all sounded terribly like some of the trashy novels she had read!

Kai's reaction was pensive. He absent-mindedly rubbed at his temples, flicking his hair away when it fell in his eyes. It sounded like the perfect work of fiction ≈ but it had to be true. Harry wouldn't make up something like this in relation to something as serious as his past. He wouldn't throw Kai's friendship back in his face. Kai knew Harry well enough to be certain that, whatever aspects of his personality had been repressed before, Harry's love for his friends was more genuine than he had ever seen in anyone else. Being orphaned so young and fighting in a war would have done that to someone, right? Harry was still Harry. He just had slightly more to him than the Irishman had realised.

Consolidated, he broke the silence first.

⌠I'm not gonna sit here and pretend that what you just said doesn't sound completely mad. But, at the same time, I believe you. I can't pretend that I understand why you can't be more specific about the details of your school. But, nevertheless, I'm going to take your word for it. I'm not going to pretend that I like the idea of adjusting to this complete you, but I'm willing to do so anyway. All I ask in return is that you answer whatever we ask when we come to ask about things, to the best of your ability, that is, and that you remember that we are always gonna be here for you.■

Elise fervently nodded her agreement before adding, in a tone and accent identical to Kai's, ⌠I can't pretend I understand the whole schoolyard rivals thing but, nevertheless, I can understand that you and your mystery blond must have had lots of angsty sex.■

A pillow promptly collided with her head.

⌠Hey, I'm sorry, mon Coeur, but you two obviously have more unresolved sexual tension that any two people I have ever seen. Ever! You are not telling me you never shagged, are you?!■

⌠Which part of rivals did you confuse with either lovers or simple fuck-buddies?■ Harry groaned dryly, cringing inwardly at the suggestion of either.

The corners of Kai's mouth twitched slightly before his expression turned serious and he added, ⌠You know how I hate to ever agree with Elise about such trivial details regarding your love life┘.but in this instance┘■

⌠Say another word and die, McCarthy!■ Harry sat up, grinning menacingly.

⌠┘I agree with her one hundred percent┘.umph!■ A second pillow hit him square in the face.

⌠Now that this whole thing is over, I know two things for sure about you.■

⌠These things are┘?■

⌠Firstly, your constant abuse of our surnames must be deeply rooted in your boarding school days. And secondly...■ He nodded conspiratorially towards Elise, ⌠You obviously have no sense of strategy or you wouldn't have left your opposition with the weapons!■

Harry was immediately bombarded with an onslaught of blows from both pillows. Feathers flew everywhere, coating the trio in a downy layer of white. Harry darted off the bed and made for the door, key in hand, planning to lock the pair away from him. He opened the door and pelted headlong into a groggy Stephan, who had been awoken by the commotion their pillow fight had caused. Stephan fell backwards onto the floor and blanched as Harry landed on top of him.

Every muscle of Stephan's body tensed at the horror of having the resident gay of the group sprawled across his torso. His mouth uttered incoherent syllables of horror, while all that could be heard from Kai and Elise was their hysterical giggle fit from the doorway.

Caught in a wave of euphoria after his talk with Kai and Elise ≈ and their subsequent pillow fight ≈ Harry decided to play along. He raised himself up onto one arm and gently trailed the other down Stephan's jawline.

⌠Well, isn't this an interesting turn of events, sugar?■

Stephan squeaked in a terrified manner before Harry burst out laughing and jumped up athletically. Stephan's sun-beaten skin turned a beetroot red before he stumbled up and squared up to Harry angrily.

⌠What the hell do you think you're doing?!■

⌠Calm down, Stephan,■ Harry replied calmly, not the slightest threatened by Stephan's anger.

⌠You can't just do┘do┘_that_ to _me_ and then tell _me_ to 'Calm down'!■

Stephan tried to shove Harry into the wall, but he stood fast.

⌠Look, I'm sorry if you can't take a joke, but that's all it was.■ Harry's voice invited no further say on the matter. His calm authority was clear for all to see. Furious that he had been humiliated and that Harry wasn't begging for forgiveness, Stephan turned to Elise.

⌠As for you, I can't believe that you encouraged such unacceptable behaviour. You're _supposed_ to be my girlfriend.■

Elise's good mood seemed to freeze and she was about to simper an apology to Stephan when an airy voice broke into the conversation.

⌠We really must stop meeting like this, Potter.■

Draco Malfoy stood slightly offset from the gathered friends, leaning casually on the opposite wall.

⌠Au contraire, monsieur,■ Elise answered for Harry. ⌠After what Harry has told me about your old rivalry, I think the fact that you bump into each other at unplanned moments makes your relationship all the more entertaining.■

⌠Relationship?!■ Harry managed to stammer out. ⌠I would like to clarify _yet again_ that Malfoy and I never had the kind of relationship that you are insinuating.■

Malfoy seemed amused by the passing events; he arched his eyebrows elegantly and smirked at Harry.

⌠I see your choice in friends remains a constant, at least, but your manners remain appaling.■

He stepped towards Kai before nodding his head and extending a hand. ⌠My name is Draco Malfoy.■

⌠Kai McCarthy at your service,■ replied the Irishman warmly.

⌠And you, sweet mademoiselle?■

⌠E..Elise,■ she giggled with a flourish of her hand that Draco caught and kissed in a gentlemanly manner.

⌠Enchante.■

⌠And you,sir?■ He turned towards a still-seething Stephan.

⌠You! I knew I recognised you! You were the jumped up, wannabe aristocrat that slipped in front of me at the refreshments queue at the airport! People like you make me sick. You waltz around, kissing other people's girlfriends,■ he gestured at Elise in a motion so exaggerated that he hit her round the stomach. ⌠In general, you act like you think you are Lord of the Manor or something! Well I'll have you know that my family┘■

⌠┘has insignificant wealth and power compared to mine, as I really am a Lord.■ Draco's eyes had stormed over.

He put a hand on Elise's shoulder. ⌠Are you okay?■

Stephan glanced uninterestedly at Elise. ⌠She's fine. Lord Malfoy? There is no such title that I am aware of. Certainly not in the circles that _I_ associate with.■

⌠That,■ Malfoy drawled in his most superior tone as he looked Stephan up and down distastefully, ⌠does not surprise me at all.■

And with that, Draco gracefully turned around to face Harry.

⌠I know I said earlier that you could come and find me if you wanted to talk, but circumstances have changed. A situation has occurred which requires both of our attentions. Before we can handle it, provided you agree to assist me, of course, I need to fill you in on a few 'minor details' you may have failed to pick up on during your┘.ummm┘..absence?■ His voice was laced with sarcasm, as always, but he didn't seem hostile.

Harry quickly assessed the situation, nodded his agreement, and asked Kai and Elise whether they would mind him leaving them for a bit. Stephan promptly piped up, declaring that it bloody well wasn't alright that he was ditching _him_ for that pompous git. Harry coolly pointed out that he wasn't ditching _them_ at all, just saying he would meet up with _them_ later.

With that Harry followed Draco into an elevator. That was the last his friends, or indeed anyone, were going to see of him for a fair amount of time.


	5. Chapter 4

Author's Notes—Beta'd by Alexa Black

Thanks to all who have reviewed! Each one gives me the encouragement to keep at this fic. I will get around to responding to individuals but time is short and I'm sure you'd all rather that I kept writing, right?

The mailing list is still available for updates on this story and other work by me at jessica(dot)cresswell()googlemail(dot)com

I hope you like this chapter, it contains the very reason I started planning a post-Hogwarts, Muggle world fic.

-------------------------------------

"If there ever was a situation that could sum up our history, it is this."

"Forced into each other's company against our wills?"

"Exactly."

Harry let out a heavy sigh and slid down the wall, landing on the floor with a heavy bump. He surveyed Malfoy as the blond paced edgily before stopping in front of the door, hands balled into fists and his back to Harry.

Feeling uneasy, Harry began to curse his spontaneous streak that made him willing to follow his blasted ex-rival. Had he really been expecting an amicable discussion? He had just been so overwhelmed by the presence of another wizard after so long in the company of Muggles -- so desperate to re-taste the magical world.

Bitterly, he began to consider their lack of escape plan aloud. The sooner he could leave Malfoy's presence, the better.

"Well, let's go over this one more time…"

"To what ends, Potter?" Malfoy snapped.

Harry was about to automatically retort but before anything resembling 'Well, it's your own damned fault we're in this situation!' could slip from his mouth, Draco was _apologising_.

"Sorry. I don't mean to be short with you. It's just….I'm…claustrophobic."

Draco's voice was laced with self-disgust as he spoke and when he turned around, Harry noticed a hint of vulnerability in his eyes that quelled Harry's growing annoyance.

"Then why the hell did you use the lift? I wouldn't have minded taking the stairs."

"Why hide from my fears? Besides, it was only supposed to be a few flights worth of confinement time!" He kicked the door irritably, composure long since lost before sitting in the corner diagonally opposite to Harry, hugging his legs to his chest and resting his brow on his knees.

"Look, it'll be fine. Okay, we can't use _Reparo _because neither of us knows enough about Muggle electrics to magically fix them. We can't blast the doors open because, judging by the slight lurch when we first started to go down, we're between floors. But that doesn't mean we are going to be stuck here, okay? I used my mobile to ring the main desk and they have called out an emergency technician. If worse comes to worst, I can Side-along Apparate us out of here. I just don't want to risk it unless absolutely necessary because my magic is a bit out of practice."

"Out of control, you mean," Draco's muffled voice dryly quipped from across the lift. "I wish I'd learned how to Apparate legally. I just never got around to getting my licence as I usually use the Floo Network."

"Since when did breaking the rules bother you so much, Malfoy?"

"You were always the rule-breaker, Potter, not I"

His voice retained the scathing tone Harry remembered, but it held no spite or conviction and the irrepressible tremor in Draco's voice was palpable. He decided not to mention the Dementor trick, trying to kill Dumbledore, nearly using the Cruciatus curse on Harry in the girl's bathroom….

"Do you know, Potter, how very readable you are?" Draco had lifted his head at Harry's silence. The pupils of his eyes were dilated with fear and beads of sweat had appeared on his refined features. "I know for a fact you were just mentally listing every single damn one of my less-than-above-board escapades from when we were at school."

Harry laughed slightly as he nodded, whilst mentally deciding that he needed to distract Malfoy before he got worse. "Got it in one, Malfoy. And yes, many a time have I been told about how I wear my heart on my sleeve and how my emotions seem to write themselves on my forehead for everyone to read. In ninety-nine percent of situations, that is the case. I don't consider it a weakness; I'm proud of my lack of falsities. And, on the plus side, it gives me a façade to rival your mask of indifference when I want to hide something or manipulate something to my advantage."

"You, the Patron Saint of all things obvious, wholesome and Gryffindor-esque, a manipulator?! Bullshit."

"Oh, I don't know," Harry replied coyly, casually inspecting his fingernails, "did you know the Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin?"

_Thump_. Draco's legs fell gracelessly from their defensive position, his lips parted; he blinked at Harry as though he had just sprouted a second head and decided to sing a round of nursery rhymes with himself.

"Yep. That's right, oh Slytherin Prince. You're gawping at a Slytherin so Slytherin that his sense of self-preservation sent him running away from the Snake Pit and into the Lions' Den, where the loyal and just could be found. Rather that than a house of conflict and backstabbing any day."

He saw that instead of distracting Draco's fear of confined spaces with past truths, he was bordering on killing the poor guy from shock. He decided to ease up a bit.

"Nah, I didn't know all of that back then. I didn't even know anything about the different Houses other than what the Sorting Hat had sang about. All I knew was that my parents' murderer, and that this arsey blond aristocrat, who had just insulted my first friend ever, were in Slytherin. I just thought to the Hat 'not Slytherin' again and again until it decided on Gryffindor."

Harry watched as Draco's tongue ran lightly over his shock-dried lips, absently wondering how such perfect, full lips could be so easily contorted into a heartless smirk. Draco noticed the path of his gaze and raised an amused eyebrow. Harry shook his head, slightly flustered at losing his train of thought because of Malfoy's lips.

"So……."

"So……."

"Since we have time to kill, why don't you explain to me what it is you needed to discuss so urgently earlier?"

--------------------------

Harry massaged his temples as he lay flat on his back across the cool lift floor. His mind was trying to absorb everything the blond had explained during the last hour or so, but he was beginning to empathise with a saturated sponge. A sponge? The fact that that comparison had even flickered into his mind proved to him that he was losing his mind. Plus, if he didn't get some food soon, he'd probably starve to death and nothing Draco had said would matter. Well, not to him obviously; it would still matter to everyone else of course. And besides, even if he didn't die of starvation, he couldn't start to blame himself for all of this mess because he wasn't to know. He could always…

Draco laughed with wry amusement. Harry jerked slightly, hitting his head against the wall behind it, and cursed softly before sitting up.

"Sorry to interrupt your evidently groundbreaking mental progress. Did you realise that you were muttering odd words like 'sponge' under your breath? Shall we briefly recap? Voldemort is dead. Death Eaters, vastly depleted. Saviour-Boy-Wonder-Golden-Gryffindor guy took a long-term vacation. Enter the Department of Mysteries."

"The Department took control and the Ministry was restructured into a strict hierarchical, overly politically correct tyranny run by Rufus Scrimgeour?! A government under which saying 'Muggle-Born' or 'Pureblood' results in a fine and where the old families struggle to get places for their children in Hogwarts because the school governors are too scared to seem biased?!"

Harry was furious. Didn't these people _learn_? He had slain Voldemort to save their world from his sick dreams of fascist oppression -- and how had they responded?! A knee-jerk reaction to their new freedom: setting up a different fascist regime, with principles found on the other extreme of the spectrum than the ones Tom Riddle would have seen them enslaved under. They were conducting public executions of suspected Death Eaters, and of those who spoke out against the Ministry -- it was all too much for Harry to take in. But Draco had yet to drop the biggest bombshell that would round off the tale of insanity perfectly.

"You want to hear the best part, Potter? The reason this 'situation' requires the attention of both of us?"

"How could this possible get worse?" Harry questioned in dismay, not really wanting to know anymore.

"You, Harry James Potter, are still their flagship and trophy boy."

"WHAT?! How is that even possible? I've not been in contact with the Wizarding World for years!"

"Exactly. That's what makes you ideal -- the boy hero who doesn't argue about the slandering of his name because he is living in blissful ignorance of it. The _Daily Prophet _gives updates on 'poor Harry Potter, who felt the need to detach himself from the magical world after dealing with the horrors of The Dark Times, who serves as a living reminder of what could happen should we slip in our newfound vigour in bringing justice to our people'.

"I think my favourite article has to be the one that spoke of your creative talents -- 'Harry Potter, once our saviour, now riddled with depression and isolation, has taken on his late mother's maiden name and is using art and literature as an outlet for the sorrow that we, as a united magical nation, have inflicted upon this poor boy -- The Boy Who Lived to Never be Loved'. So yes, we are all trapped and the excuse is that we need the discipline to prevent hurting dear Harry Potter any further. All trapped. No way out," Draco laughed humourlessly.

Harry snapped out of his own shock for a moment to notice that Draco was shaking slightly.

"Malfoy? Malfoy…?" No response. The blond stared unblinkingly straight in front of him. The shaking was getting worse. Harry began to panic. The distraction methods were failing and Draco seemed to be going into full blown panic.

Cursing Muggle technology under his breath, Harry stood and began pacing the lift to see what he could do. With a look of deep concentration, he held out his right hand, pictured his favourite view of Oxford University park and let it flow through him, wandlessly projecting it onto the walls.

The strain of casting magic again took its toll and he fell to the floor beside Draco, panting and weakened. The blond didn't seem to have registered the change of scenery -- gently swaying flowers in a rockery to his left, carefully manicured lawns and an ancient willow tree whose long vines were matted together like a lush green carpet, shielding the trunk.

"Malfoy," Harry tried again. Still nothing. He shuddered slightly from the strain of the magic. "Draco," he murmured softly. That worked.

Draco blinked and began to actually see his surroundings rather than the chasm of panic he had been staring into. He blinked again as he reached out a hand and felt cool metal where there should have been a shrub. He looked to his left and saw the source of the gentle voice that had stirred him back to reality -- or whatever semblance of reality this strange place was -- and he saw Harry Potter, struggling for breath and looking like he'd just ran the London Marathon.

It made sense immediately. Draco felt uncomfortable; he didn't know what to say. Sure, he and Harry had been speaking civilly, but no real reconciliation had been made or even discussed. He'd considered the meeting business only. He realised he'd never got around to telling Harry the reason that his status as the Ministry's trophy boy affected the pair of them but it seemed irrelevant just then.

He stared at Harry, who had recovered slightly, with questioning eyes. Harry merely gave a sincere smile in response and remained flat on his back, head resting on his folded arms. Without really thinking about it, Draco lowered his head towards the raven-haired man beside him and kissed him delicately on the cheek -- the traditional Pureblood expression of thanks towards a family member or acquaintance.

Harry flushed at the sensation of tender lips lingering, for just a second longer than necessary, before Draco rose and surveyed him carefully. Deep jade eyes sparkled with some yet undecided emotion as they met the intense gaze of his companion. Something significant shifted in their relationship again -- another Quantum Leap akin in intensity to the _Sectumsempra_ incident in Sixth year, or the shaking of hands earlier. And yet, neither man was given time to work out exactly what had changed as the elevator gave an almighty lurch.

"Shit! The walls!" Harry was on his feet in seconds and attempting to undo the complex charms he had cast.

"Calm down, you psycho. There is no need to undo the charms. Merely cast a charm that will make the scenery invisible to Muggles," Draco suggested calmly.

Harry glared at Draco in an outburst of immaturity usually reserved for those he felt comfortable around. He realised what he was doing, shook his head slightly and muttered, more to himself than Draco, "How come your presence has always been enough to disorient me?"

Draco heard Harry and stared at him in slight shock at the admission. Harry seemed to realise he had spoken his thoughts aloud and flushed in embarrassment as their eyes met. Draco's eyes flittered around Harry's face, almost as if he were assessing him, but he was saved answering the accidental question by the opening of the lift doors.

------------------

After a torrent of apologies and concerns from the owner of the hotel, Harry and Draco had finally been able to escape. Harry was grateful that Draco had handled the whole process for him -- the hysterical old man had barely seemed to register his presence.

The two men were out of the front entrance in a non-verbalised agreement to get away from the man before he insisted on moving them to nicer rooms or something. As they were leaving the door, Harry spotted Elise and Stephan. Briefly wondering where Kai was, Harry groaned to himself -- them seeing him was the last thing he needed.

Draco heard the groan and laughed softly. "Oh, they won't notice you, Potter," he whispered awkwardly as he seemed to be restricting his lip movement. "Didn't you notice me casting a Disillusion charm on you?"

Harry laughed, half in shock and half at Draco's poor ventriloquism techniques. The blond flushed so gently that his skin merely shifted a semi-tone in colour, but that was enough for Harry. He laughed again, only louder this time. A harassed looking middle-aged couple, who were trying to control their boisterous youths, turned around from were they had been standing on the veranda and looked at Draco confusedly. He flushed a little bit more and discreetly grabbed Harry's arm and dragged him away in a temper.

----------------

Draco sat down heavily and without ceremony in his favourite booth at his favourite pizzeria. He looked flustered and was in quite a sour temper. The poor waiter who came to take a drinks order was verbally assaulted in a rush of fluent Italian and ordered to stay away until his guest arrived.

That very guest had been ordered to make his way to the toilet and remove his Disillusion charm before coming to dine with Draco with a very good apology.

The walk to the pizzeria had been a disaster so terrible it made Mount Vesuvius erupting look tame in the aristocrat's eyes. The Lord Malfoy should not have to walk through the streets of Rome at an undignified pace, dragging an invisible Harry Potter and looking to passers-by like a deranged mime-artist who had been exposed to too much sun and had begun to speak -- or yell, as the case had been -- to himself.

People had been pointing and giggling at him and Draco was not amused. His composure had been replaced by a _proper _attack of blushing, making him look like he was sunburnt. And the thing that had really made things worse? Harry-bloody-Potter had been laughing musically the whole time, tears of mirth rolling from his invisible eyes.

Draco was so lost in his mental row with Harry Potter, that he didn't notice when the real thing came and sat down opposite him. He had obviously transfigured his clothes; gone were the faded jeans and T-shirt and in their place was a dark green, almost Kaftan-style top that had a V-neck and silver embroidered detail around the cuffs and neckline, and black trousers. To the Muggle eye, Harry looked like the artistic man he was but to Draco's eyes, Harry looked like a wizard and, he couldn't help but notice, a wizard whom _green_ suited very well.

"So," Harry began conversationally, "when you've finished gawping at my attire, perhaps we could discuss why you Disillusioned me, dragged me around lovely Roma to this restaurant, and expect an apology for making yourself look like a first-class fruitcake."

A napkin hit Harry on the head. Draco gave a pained sigh before stating haughtily that Malfoys don't gawp. He smirked at his companion and Harry knew he was forgiven for laughing hysterically at him.

The waiter edged cautiously toward their booth. Draco asked Harry if he preferred red or white before yelling at the approaching waiter in Italian again, causing him to fall over a fortunately unoccupied chair in panic.

"I see you still enjoy striking terror into the hearts of poor innocents," Harry commented dryly.

"Some things, Mr. Potter, will never change," Draco declared regally.

Harry rolled his eyes. "So why are you in Rome anyway? Where did you learn to verbally dissect the locals in their native tongue and what was it you needed to tell me?"

"Long story, Blaise Zabini, and another long story, but one I think I really should get around to finishing.

"Basically, when I said tyranny earlier, I wasn't exaggerating. How do you think the Ministry knows when people say things like "pureblood"? They watch everyone and they are ruthless. Somewhere along the line, the Ministry gained enough undisputable power to put the ex-Death Eaters into positions of power within their offices. That's the cleverest con of them all, you see. On the surface, they are being politically correct to a fault; no one notices the promotion of Death Eaters as a problem. When no form of media advertises the deaths and disappearance of Muggles and Muggle-borns and instead focuses on the trials of purebloods, the Wizarding World thinks things are fair. What no one seems to notice is that the Purebloods that get put on trial are all "blood-traitors" anyway, like Arthur Weasley, and no one that would be important to the hidden cause.

"But that whole sorry mess can be explained in greater detail at a later date. The important issue that requires the attention of both of us is that they know your magic is awake once more. A report of you 'gradually beginning to reaccept your magic' was reported in the _Daily Prophet_ today, 'bringing hope to the Wizarding World that our path into redemption may mean that our Saviour might yet return.' Well I've seen the British officials around Rome in action before and they are a force to be reckoned with, but no match for you if you're anywhere near as powerful in practice as you seemed to be when I aligned your chakras."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Harry's minded flitted back to the event earlier and he felt the heat rise to his face. It suddenly seemed such a _personal _thing that Draco had done. It _should_ have felt invasive, not soothing. Shrugging that thought aside, he listened again.

"…I don't think they mean to kill you; they couldn't do that and still produce regular pictures of you living your life and growing old in peace to keep the public at ease. But they can't risk you coming back into your powers so they're going to try something. You haven't done any magic with a wand, so they can't pinpoint exactly how magically attuned you are at the moment. There's a chance that they will just try to monitor you. But they know you can do wandless magic, so maybe they'll try to apprehend you just in case…"

Draco was rambling. Harry was staring, transfixed. The Wizarding World was worse than ever and _yet again_ he seemed to be on the receiving end.

The bell on the pizzeria door tinkled and a small group spilled in from the street. A small group that consisted of one hyperactive French female, a sarcastic Irishman and a first-rate arse.

Harry sank down in his chair, hoping that his friends and Stephan wouldn't see him. He didn't analyse why he didn't want his friends to see him, but he knew deep down that neither the seriousness of Draco's conversation nor the fact that Stephan would cause a scene were the real reasons.

Draco noticed that Harry wasn't paying attention and stood up slightly so as to see over the top of the booth. With his ever ready Seeker's reflexes, Harry lurched forwards, captured Draco's hand and caught him mid-motion before guiding him back to his seat. Swift as the Harry had been, it had been unnecessary -- Stephan and the others had spotted the duo through the window and that was their only reason for entering the restaurant. Ignoring the waiter, they had spilled towards the booth and all began speaking at once.

"Blimey mate, you had us worried. We couldn't get in touch with your mobile or anything."

"Mon Coeur! Are you alright?"

"Where the fuck have you been? And why the hell are you holding _his_ hand?!"

Elise and Kai stopped talking. Kai merely raised a questioning brow, amused at the instant mortification on Harry's face. Elise, on the other hand, squealed delightedly. "I knew it! C'est fantastique!"

"I certainly don't think it's fantastique," scoffed Stephan. He grasped Elise and pulled her away from the booth. From the moment his hand touched her arm, Harry noticed her withdraw. Excited eyes died and her expression became suspiciously suppressed. He switched his vision to a deeper level and felt for their auras. Once again, he saw wisps of fuchsia being dulled to lavender; what worried him most, however, was that some areas, presumably once lavender, were now beginning to grey.

Using a permutation of Legilimency, Harry projected the image into Draco's mind. It was easy since his magic was still attuned to Draco's from when the blond healed him earlier. Draco's breath hitched at the invasion of his mind, but he didn't turn to yell at Harry. Instead, he began to glare at Stephan with a reinforced loathing and something akin to trepidation. Something was far from right.

Harry's Slytherin side took over. Now was the time for cunning, not spontaneous bravery. Hexing Stephan wouldn't solve anything, however much he felt like doing so for the sake of Elise and Draco. He had never seen the man look even slightly scared, not even during the war when he had worked as spy.

"Might I suggest that Draco and I pay for our meal and meet you at the bar across the road? We can talk there -- here is_ not_ the place." Harry's tone was waspish and invited no arguments.

Even Stephan looked suitably chastised by Harry's words and glare. The fact that Harry's eyes were so emotive gave him even more power when he showed anger or disappointment in someone. The three left.

Draco looked Harry up and down, impressed. "Well it would certainly appear that you learned something useful from Professor Snape's lessons -- even if it wasn't potions."

Harry gave him a lopsided grin then sobered. "Is it safe for me to walk across the road? I don't want to bring a herd of officials down on my neck. You said earlier that this problem affects both of us. Does that mean you'll help me?"

"I think you'll be okay crossing the road. They probably know you're here by now; the magic you cast to undo my Disillusion charm would've alerted them. They will probably also know you are with me. I have a form of immunity in Italy as long as I keep my head down. They won't risk crossing me. I think that as long as we stick together, you'll be fine until we can come up with something more permanent. So yes, Potter, I will help you."

Harry nodded once. "Call me Harry. You may as well, and my friends would scoff at the formality. What's in this deal for you, Malfoy?"

"Draco," the blond offered with a shrug as if to say 'if we must'. "Nothing sinister. No ulterior motives. I just want the Golden Boy's help in doing what he does best: sorting out the mess that is the Wizarding World."

The two paid and left the restaurant. "Of course, I do think you owe me big time. Sticking around with you is one thing. But that pompous arse who is dating Elise, he is something else." Draco shuddered slightly.

"I'm guessing you saw the freaky aura thing then?"

"Yes, I saw the 'freaky aura thing'. I couldn't miss it after you forced it into my mind."

Harry was about to apologise but Draco waved it off. "I'm not mad. It's just that no one has used Legilimency on me since Voldemort. Now, about the 'freaky aura thing'…I've heard of it before, vaguely -- perhaps in a childhood fairytale? One of those good verses evil tales. In this one, the evil side could turn Muggles into creatures like themselves by de-charging their auras or something. That's how they spread and when they came into contact with a magical aura, eventually they could burn a Wizard's magical core and destroy it. Or I think that's what happened. It's been a long time since I read fairytales. But whatever the case, it's unnatural and I don't think it can be good for Elise. Or you for that matter, if you end up stuck with Stephan for a while."

----------------------------

Harry and Draco stuck in a lift together grins As irrelevant as that may be in the grand scheme of the plot, I just _had_ to write it.

Please review!


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